


Perpetual

by ohliamylia



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:19:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohliamylia/pseuds/ohliamylia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>- and maybe it's not a dream, actually, maybe it's a memory that only belongs to him, now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perpetual

He wasn't lying when he said he doesn't sleep as much as humans. He doesn’t want to. He drifts off in his swing under the console sometimes, chin falling to his chest for a minute or two, sonic screwdriver humming in his hand. And that's all he needs, really, occasionally, or all he lets himself get away with, because why oversleep when there are stars to save?

He's dreaming of foiling a plot at an opera house, trying to find the bomb - well, not a bomb, more of a - and maybe it's not a dream, actually, maybe it's a memory that only belongs to him, now, when his eyes snap open to stare at the pattern on his shirt. The Doctor shakes away the dream and sets aside the open book in his lap, but he can't get up because Rory is there in front of him, hello Rory, and Rory is...

"Rory?"

Rory has his back to the chair and the Doctor rises to step around him, circling and stepping close until the toes of his shoes are nearly bumping the toes of Rory's socks, leaning in to try to see what Rory sees as a reflection in his eyes. Rory doesn't respond, barely breathes, and the Doctor's mouth twists into something that isn't pity but more like pride.

"Rory," he repeats, quieter, and Rory blinks twice. He starts at the Doctor's proximity but doesn't pull back.

"Doctor." His voice is a little thick with sleep. His eyebrows are scrunched together. His hair could use a good comb. The Doctor has an excellent vantage point to observe this, and the confusion in his eyes. "I... came to find Amy." He sounds like he's trying to assure them both.

_Well how should I know,_ the Doctor bites back, _really, Rory, why do you keep coming to me looking for your wife_ , but Rory doesn't seem angry or upset, just resigned and a little bit fond (or is that fond and a little bit resigned?) and the Doctor tries to smile and doesn't succeed, by his own reflection in Rory's eyes.

She's at the fair, he doesn't say either, because he can't tell Rory yet, not until he gets a message to Amy somehow to bring back candyfloss for Rory. He could hire skywriters. Catch a cat and tape a note to it and tell it to find her. Rory's confusion is growing, or maybe that's discomfort, the Doctor worries, remembering how close he is, how protective humans are about the air they have proclaimed their own, and he reaches to rest both of his hands on Rory's right one, gently prying his fingers away from a sword he's never grasped.

Rory looks surprised by that too, and the Doctor wonders what he dreams about, if he closes his eyes and stands guard until he wakes. He opens his mouth, maybe to say something, but the Doctor swiftly interrupts, and maybe he's just a little ashamed of that, somewhere underneath his braces and bowtie.

"How about a ride on the Ferris wheel, eh?"

Rory's mouth hangs open for a moment. "Yeah, alright."

The Doctor grabs his hand, holds it, forgets to stop to let Rory put shoes on, but he should be tall enough for the Ferris wheel without them. They might have to stop at another fairground, he thinks, and maybe a few more after that, because he's not sure there are enough scoops of ice cream on the planet to make up for two thousand years.


End file.
